


An Artist, a Delinquent, and a Lord

by Magikkittenz29



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Bittersweet, Crying, Deceit is referred to as Ethan, Drunken Flirting, Duelling, Fighting, Flirting, Fluff and Angst, Get on board cause the Creativtwins gonna be fighting for deceit, I'll add more if needed - Freeform, Implied Sexual Content, Inappropriate Humor, Love Triangles, M/M, Pining, Romantic Fluff, Romantic Gestures, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-12 15:17:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20566505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magikkittenz29/pseuds/Magikkittenz29
Summary: Two brothers who are complete opposites of each other find themselves being acquainted with the presence of a sly and cunning lord. Now, they fight for his heartorRoman and Remus are gay disasters and Deceit is one hot snake





	1. The Meeting

The man walked quickly, his easel and his palette in his hands while a bag full of paint and brushes were in the other. His beret, slightly tilted off his head, concealed a wild mess of golden chestnut curls. His white button-down shirt was covered in paint and so were his black slacks, though they were less visible. He stared straight ahead at the large stand-alone mansion and puffed his chest out, ready for the challenge coming for him.

His confidence faltered as the large doors grew massively as he neared. He cleared his throat and gave himself a small ego boost before using the door knocker to make his presence known. A few seconds passed before a butler dressed in a black and white suit with white gloves met him at the door. “Greetings,” he said smoothly, looking at the visitor up and down. “I’m assuming you are Mr. King?”

The man nodded at the butler. “Yes, I am. I was told that my skills were needed here?” he nearly stammered as the butler gazed at him with a curious yet judging eye.

The suited man nodded and opened the door wider. “Please come in. Master Ethan will be seeing you shortly,” he said and started walking, gesturing for the newcomer to do the same. He led them to a large area with three chandeliers hanging and sparkling brightly above him. They were so majestic that the guest couldn’t help but stare at them in awe before continuing to follow the butler. He was led to a velvet chair and was asked to sit down, a cup of tea placed in front of him along with sugar cubes, cream, and biscuits. “You are allowed to snack until my Lord gets here. I will be by the doorway outside if you need my assistance,” he said and bowed.

The artist nodded and sat in silence as the large doors that led to the hall were closed. He took a steady breath and drank some tea, not at all surprised at how good it tasted. He expected as much from such a lavish and wealthy estate with an equally lavish and wealthy resident owning the establishment. He ate the cookies quickly as the artists had not gotten breakfast this early morning considering he was rushing to make it over to the lord’s place as quickly as possible. He looked around as silence filled the room. There were beautifully painted frames hanging from most of the walls, those that were empty housed a window. The floor his feet touched were marble, each tile decorated with an intricate design.

The man sighed in awe and slouched slightly in his chair, still not quite believing he was here. _Here_ here. This was beyond a low-level artist like him. Dreams certainly do come true if you wish hard enough.__

_ __ _

The sound of a large door creaking startled the man out of his thoughts. The butler from earlier walked in, standing on the inside of the door, holding it open. “Presenting Lord Ethan Dolos,” he announced and the artist had to do a double-take.

_ __ _

Lord Ethan had walked in wearing a regal gold waistcoat with a black velvet cravat around his neck. His button-down was white and he wore snug-fitted gloves that were black as well. He had dress pants and leather boots, freshly shined and he was wearing a black top hat. He was devastatingly handsome despite the left side of his face being slightly scarred. The visitor’s jaw was left agape before he closed it quickly, a soft blush creeping up his face.

_ __ _

Ethan sat down in the seat across from him, sighing softly and looking up at the other. “So you’re Roman King, I presume?” he asked smoothly, his voice making the artist shudder. “Yes I am your lordship,” the artist - Roman - managed out without a stutter. “You asked me to come over to your establishment for a commission?”

_ __ _

Ethan nodded simply, his gloved hands folded across his lap as his feet were crossed. “The common folk have been talking about your skills for quite some time. They weren’t wrong to brag about your talents - though _I’m_ wondering why you would sell them for such a low price to those who cannot pay enough,” he said crisply.__

_ _ _ __ _ _ _

Roman gripped his trousers roughly, blinking rapidly. “Well, my lordship, there are so many painters that love what they do and love making creations for people. Most of the time, however, they are only for the wealthy who can afford it. I didn’t quite exactly have a poor upbringing, but I didn’t have the luxuries you do. I want to make people happy with my creations, even those who don’t pay as much as other painters would like to receive. I know what it’s like to see something that only the rich have and to wish to acquire it. And I want people to have a sense that perhaps they needn’t have to feel that way all the time.” 

_ _ _ __ _ _ _

Ethan’s face had stayed the same throughout the artist’s statement and Roman waited tensely, believing with much certainty that he was about to be escorted out.

_ _ _ __ _ _ _

Instead, the lord smiled at Roman, such a smile the made the latter’s heart beat wildly. “What devotion, what _passion_. Not to mention your art looks phenomenal. Today I called you here because I wanted to see how your art would suffice here in my home. Many artists have made their mark here, but many others have also failed,” he paused for a second, shooting a somewhat sly glance at Roman. “Since I have so much wealth and so much time on my hands, I suppose you can say I’ve wanted to try a lot of experiments.”__

_ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _

Roman’s mouth twisted up into a sharp line before he cleared his throat. “So I am to assume that I will need to be setting my things up?”

_ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _

Ethan’s mouth quirked slightly. “Yes. I have a specific room for you, however.”

_ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _

“What will be my model?”

_ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _

“Me.”

_ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _

Roman blinked. He wasn’t sure why this request was so much different from the others. Many people have asked and paid him to draw one of their family members or themselves...so why was drawing Ethan any different?

_ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _

_Because he’s a lord you dimwit!_ Roman responded to himself. “Alright then,” he answered before the silence drew out too long. The lord before him smiled and stood up quickly. He turned around and started walking to the door, turning out with a smirk and a mischievous wink. “Shall we?”__

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Roman nodded a little too eagerly and grabbed his things, quickly following him out of the room.

_ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _


	2. A New Point of View

Roman was led to another large room, this one less immense than the waiting hall he had resided in. There was a large white sheet on the floor, perfectly clean. The walls were also draped with the same fabric. Multiple easels, stools, palettes, and tools were stored in the large bookshelf-like areas on every other wall. Some half-done paintings were in the corner and some were propped up against the wall facing the window, the sun shining through to dry the paint.

Ethan went to an easel, taking the drapings off the item. He turned dramatically towards Roman. “Here, this is where you will be situated while we have our sessions,” he said. “Unless of course, you finish quickly.”

Roman nodded and gingerly placed his stuff down, sitting carefully on the stool presented to him. He felt...exhilarated, excited,  _ authentic _ . When he was younger, his mother had always told them how the greatest artists started from being commissioned by powerful people. His fingers twitched eagerly as if he couldn’t help but do  _ something _ with the canvas.

He heard a chuckle from behind him and he turned around, his face burning once more. He must have looked like a fool.

“No no, don’t be embarrassed on my behalf. You must be pretty dedicated to feel the yearning of wanting to paint.” The lord walked over to a velvet chair sitting across from the easel. “I will do my best to stay still while you replicate me and all of my features,” he purred softly, winking at the artist, and draped himself onto the chair so that his legs were over the left side of the armrests and his elbow was propping up his head on the right from Roman’s point of view.

Roman lost his words for a few moments before snapping out of his trance. “Is this your desired pose?” he asked nervously. His heartbeat had only quickened once he saw Ethan nodding calmly, smirking and looking at his gloved fingers. It was hardly an observation that the lord was purposefully making the artist come undone. Whether it came from the way he licked his lips or shifted his body to look more appealing, Roman didn’t know and he told himself that it would be better if he didn’t know. He swallowed thickly and grabbed his things; getting the paint onto the palette and the brushes out of his box.

He mixed the needed colors and started with the face. Lead was not needed for him, he  _ never _ used lead to start off. Without hesitation he started painting the contour of Ethan’s face, trying to make it as precise as he possibly could. He boldly snuck a peek from behind the canvas, seeing the man still sitting on the same chair, the same way with the same face. Roman retracted quickly and continued, ignoring his nervousness.

This process went on for a few hours, the artist continuing to observe and paint his subject. His hammering heart slowing down considerably after the first hour and a half, and now he was working as dignantly as he could. Overall the painting had captured most of the room, the chair, Ethan’s body stature, and parts of his face, now it was time for the detailing. His paintbrush moved to his palette before finding its way back to the canvas. He started detailing the lord’s face; defining his cheekbones, making sure to capture the smirk, his hair, his eyes, perfectly. Even his scars.

Roman admired the scars. It wasn’t something to be ashamed of or disgusted of, it was a proud reminder of the hardships of life you had lived through. But, just in case, he leaned out from the side of the canvas and asked, “Pardon me, my lord, but are there any... _ exceptions _ that you want me to heed?” he asked.

Ethan seemed to think about the question for a little bit before responding, “No. I want to see how  _ you _ perceive, what you would and would not put in the painting. After all, all artists have a different perspective of beauty.”

Roman nodded, continuing with what he started with. His hands moving fluidly, never making a mistake. After he had finished the face he moved on to the body. This is where he started getting nervous. The artist wasn’t sure if he would be able to focus properly as the brush glided down to capture all of the man’s curves and dips of his body and the strongly built parts of his body. Roman started mentally scolding himself, shaking his head slightly while his face grew in warmth and color.

_ Don’t focus too much on the anatomy, focus more on the clothing, the correct creases, the right amount of shadowing _ , he encouraged himself. And, for a while, that had brought him back on task, mixing the proper colors for the shading. While he continued, the artist was waiting for the Lord to ask for a break, but it never came. Roman had never met a client who was able to have the patience to stay in one pose for so long without needing a break to eat, drink, or stretch.

Without any interruptions, he finished the torso and went to the legs. His mouth went dry as he started working on his hips, drawing the line from where his hips started to where his leg ended on the chair. The curves were so inconceivable yet his stature broad and apparent. He drew the dip between the two legs that rested upon each other as they were draped over the leg of the chair gracefully. His hand stuttered and he slowly withdrew the brush from his work, trying to steady his trembling hand before he continued.

“Why the sudden break?” Ethan’s voice drawled from the velvet couch. He seemed to want to move yet didn’t make any attempt to try and position himself any other way.

“Pardon?” Roman replied, his face red. 

Ethan seemed to take delight in his response and said once more, “May I ask why you stopped? You haven’t stopped even once in the last few hours. Do you need a break? Do you need to re-evaluate? Or perhaps,” he paused, his arm moving down just a little bit near his hips. “You were distracted?”

“Of course n-not,” Roman hastily stammered. The hand that wasn’t holding onto his palette gripped the collar of his button-up rather harshly. To say that the rumors about Lord Ethan weren’t true were a severe mistake, they were  _ more _ than just gossip, they were  _ fact _ . He was every bit as cunning, charming, teasing, and as sly as the people had spoken. Now, he was hellbent on trying to break him slowly.

And Roman - being Roman - couldn’t live with that notion. Of course, the Lord was to tease him in this way, but who was to say that he couldn’t fight back? He wasn’t going to lose this battle of temptation. “No my Lord, I was simply, making sure everything was in the right place. We cannot have the painting without imperfections, correct?” he shot back with a confident smile that he usually held. While Roman failed in putting up a confident facade, he could certainly make up for it with his colorful range in poetic verses.

Ethan’s face lit up, as if now their banter had interested him. His lips turning up into a beguiling grin. “Finally joining in on the game, hm?”

Roman stared straight at the man. “I’m not quite sure what you are referring to my Lord,” he responded simply, taking another deep breath before continuing his painting.

It took several hesitant strokes around the waist and thighs among the legs before the artist had finished the figure. He looked it over and compared the painting with Ethan who was still relatively in the same pose. To anyone who would’ve viewed the painting, they were strikingly indistinguishable. Though Roman was still slightly dissatisfied, as any professional artist would be. He was never quite fully contented with his finished piece, though he would feel his pride nurtured if his patron complimented the piece.

As the silence continued on around the room, Roman started the background, which was relatively bland and non-detailed. He wondered if that was why Ethan had wanted the painting to be based here. The contrast of colors compared to the background made the viewer focus more on the subject of the painting than what was around him. That part he finished quickly, standing up from his stool to take a good look at his piece. He smiled, feeling slightly more confident about this one than his previous ones, though he hadn’t a single notion as to why.

“So,” a voice piped up to break him away from his thoughts. “I assume our session was enjoyable?” Ethan stated, walking up from his spot on the chair. He did not stretch out his muscles whatsoever, instead he walked over to the easel to look at the finished product.

Roman nearly swatted the lord away, not wanting the finished product to be seen until the patron was alone but Ethan seemed to have other plans. The artist watched him nervously before his smirk turned into a genuinely awed smile. He turned to Roman, his expression still the same. “So it is you _ , _ ” he said a little breathlessly, pressing a gloved hand over his mouth.

Before Roman had a chance to respond, the lord took his hand and whisked him out of the room quickly, nearly dragging him as they went through the halls. The two reached a large flight of stairs, elegant and freshly polished. Ethan seemed not to care quite so much about the state Roman’s clothes were in- covered in paint - and led him up with vigor.

The man being pulled found his words and asked with an alarmed and hesitant voice, “My Lord, I don’t mean to be rude but where are we heading?”

He hadn’t expected Ethan to turn back to him with such an adventurous gleam in his eyes and a wide smile stretched out on his lips. He didn’t answer but he increased his speed, the two of them making it onto the second floor, taking a sharp right turn around the corner to a dark hall. Roman didn’t have much time to admire the scenery but he did see a particular painting that stood out to him, this one of an older gentleman who closely resembled Lord Ethan. Before he knew what was happening, he was pulled into a dark room, the door slamming shut behind them. There were candles around the room and two large windows barely lighting the area. A large bed positioned at the left of the door with two nightstands taking their places beside it. To the right of the door situated a study area and a large closet a bit further back.

It took a moment for Roman to realize exactly where he was and flushed red upon the realization. “My Lord, i-is there a reason you’ve brought me to your bed chamb-” 

“Oh please, you can drop the pleasantries. Call me Ethan,” he said quickly and started walking towards the door that was on the other side of the bed, hidden from view. Roman opened his mouth again but was immediately quieted by the lord’s finger against his lips. “No, Roman, we’re not here to copulate as much as I’d might like to.”

“I-I wasn’t going t-to ask that!” he exclaimed with an incredulous tone.

Ethan smirked and tilted his head back at him. “Sure you weren’t.”

He went to the door, pulling out an old but rather clean key from his vest pocket. He inserted it and twisted the key slowly, the door opening. He placed the key back and motioned for Roman to follow him. He headed into the darkness that was the room and the artist had no choice but to follow him.

The corridor in the room wasn’t as long as Roman had suspected it to be, hitting Ethan’s back abruptly, muttering a quick apology. He had half a mind to ask once again what they were doing but he kept his mouth shut.

They stood in the dark for a few moments before the sound of a match striking was heard. A flame was then lit, and the lord lit up the candles that were up hanging from the wall. There were about 10 in their surrounding area and it took a few minutes but soon it was bright enough to see.

Roman gave Ethan a questioning look and the man pointed towards the wall in front of him. The artist obeyed the instruction, looking straight ahead.

It was a massive painting, of the gentleman in the hall and Lord Ethan when he was younger. He stared in astonishment, the painting still in wonderful condition despite it clearly have been done several years ago. Instinctively, Roman walked up to the painting and brushed his fingers over it, feeling the paint strokes that were used to make such a masterpiece.

“Is this why you brought me here?” he whispered, turning to Ethan who was watching from the far right wall. 

The Lord nodded, walking up next to him with his hands behind his back. “It is, but  _ my _ question for you is if you know the meaning behind  _ why? _ ” 

Roman stared at him for a moment before shaking his head, retracting his hand from the painting. “I’m afraid I don’t.”

Ethan smiled. “This painting was made on the day my father was to go off to serve on the other side of the Atlantic. I remembered I had to get up extra early so that my father wouldn’t miss the ship,” he sighed fondly with reminiscence. “He had us look our best and we sat in the study, me on my father’s lap. The painter came in, smiling. Considering his clothes, I wouldn’t have called him wealthy.I remember whispering to my father why a ‘poor man’ was here but all he did was smile and stayed silent. The painter set up his equipment quickly, getting started right away. I had done  _ many _ paintings at that age - with my father or not - and I was expecting it to be as long as they usually were. I wasn’t expecting the painter to be done in a third of that time.

“I was questioning whether my father had done a good job choosing the painter, but the question disappeared once he showed us the painting. It was  _ lifelike _ , stunning, perfect in almost every way - not to mention he had finished it so quickly,” he said, suddenly stopping his retelling. Roman gazed at him expectantly, patiently waiting for him to continue.

Ethan brought his eyes back to Roman’s. “There are many things an artist will evaluate when they paint, sketch or sculpt. But usually, it’s what they define as beautiful, what parts of the piece will they alter, which parts of the piece need to be different in order to fit their views?” he paused once more. “After all, art is supposed to portray how an artist perceives the world, correct?”

The artist nodded, trying to grasp at why Ethan was telling him this.

“Every artist that ever walked in here  _ never _ bothered to add my scars into the portrait. As a result, I had always thought it was because of how I looked with them. I thought I looked horrible with them - I hated them so much.” Ethan looked disdainful before he placed his gloved hands on Roman’s shoulders. “But that artist, Roman, he  _ did  _ paint them. I hadn’t a clue as to why. I asked him politely afterward why he had done it, and he told me that scars were what made someone brave.”

Roman’s head clicked. His mother had always given him that advice. “My mother told me that too, Ethan,” he replied in a hushed tone.

“Yes, that’s why I brought you here. You see, the man that had painted us went by the name of Alexander King,” he said, the statement echoing throughout the corridor.

_ Alexander King. _

The name ran through his head as if the information was too much to process at once. The hall was quiet for several moments before Roman uttered in the softest tone, “That was my father’s name.”


End file.
